“Don’t you think many husbands behaved abominably because of that,” she asked, “treating women like children, being cruelly strict with them, not allowing their wives any freedom, and then punishing them for any infractions?”
“Most assuredly. Fortunately, the Married Women's Property Act of 1870 and the Matrimonial Causes Act last year have addressed some of these issues.”
“Last year!” Charlotte thought about Amity and Bea, both marrying and giving up their legal status as people.How strange!And they had done so willingly, for love. They each must trust their husband beyond anything.
“In any case,” he continued, “if you have indeed been given the power to run the shop, then you can sign the contract of lease. I see nothing untoward in the document. However, I expect if you do something your mother doesn’t want you to do, then the force of the law is the least of your worries. Is that correct?”
She smiled at his unerring supposition. “True. I would rather a stint in Newgate jail than to draw upon me my mother’s displeasure.”
At his concerned expression, she added, “I speak in jest, my lord. My mother, while formidable and exacting, has always been fair and kind. She said she would like to expand if we could stay on New Bond Street.”
“Then this seems to be the perfect solution.” Then he cocked his head. “And you’re quite correct about the tea. My second cup is cold.”
CHARLES WAS IMPRESSED by Miss Rare-Foure all over again. The next thing he knew, he’d invited her to stay to dinner after determining she had no plans and was going home to an empty house. He’d even agreed to send a footman to her home to stave off the inevitable worry of the family’s long-time staff, who might be concerned, having already expected her arrival.
Lastly, he had the coal fire lit in the dining room, thinking not for the first time how modern Pelham’s home was with gas lighting and heat. With only him and his father, two bachelors, they had never seen the need to renovate, except putting in a new kitchen stove at their cook’s request. Nonetheless, he now saw the benefit since it had been difficult as the deuce to get Miss Rare-Foure to remove her cloak.
During the meal, his father did not put in an appearance, and Charles thought that was for the best. The earl was often cantankerous. On the other hand, the way she handled customers, her delightful personality might have done him the world of good.
Charles was secretly pleased to see she had regained her good humor and pleasant countenance, both of which had been so blatantly absent the last time he was in her shop, watching her chase out customers. Perhaps it was the possibility of expanding Rare Confectionery that had put her in such a happy mood, but he could practically see her excitement in her sparkling eyes and bowed lips.
Who would have ever guessed inside the young woman who crafted marzipan and loved pretty things, there beat the heart of a woman of business?
He hoped it all worked out for the best. He also wished he’d invited her out a second time. It had been narrow-minded of him not to, but he was decidedly on the fence whether they were well-matched at all. While the attraction grew each time he was with her, if she were entirely unsuitable to become a viscountess, there was no point in leading her on. After all, he wasn’t a scoundrel to dally with a woman’s feelings, especially not the sister of his friend’s wife.
Without hesitation, she accepted his offer to dine together alone as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a single female to dine at a single gentleman’s home. He couldn’t help rolling his eyes at the precariousness of it and hoped Pelham, as her brother-in-law, didn’t look unkindly upon him.
As it turned out, over a creamy vegetable pottage followed by roast chicken with sliced potatoes, Miss Rare-Foure further enchanted him with her knowledge of art as well as the broadness of her thoughts. She’d traveled extensively on the Continent but didn’t put on airs about it. Instead, she seemed to have developed a keen insight into the differences among cultures while appreciating the sameness of people’s responses to such basic things as good food, wine, and music.
In literature, she was not extremely well read, apparently preferring gossip rags and sentimental novels to anything philosophical. But then during dessert, she mentioned William Harrison Ainsworth.
“I’m working my way through the three volumes of Mr. Ainsworth’s latest publication,Beau Nash. And I understand he is still writing at age 74.”
Charles almost spit out his wine. “That’s remarkable.”
“Is it?” She looked at him over a forkful of the strawberry tart Cook had made for the pudding course. “People do many things into their seventies.”
“No, I didn’t mean because of his age. I meant because I greatly admire him as well. I’ve read nearly all of his works,” Charles declared, “exceptthat one. I just haven’t had time as yet.”
“Do you read him because he is also a lawyer?” she asked.
What a delight, he thought,to have someone else with whom he could discuss an author he greatly admired.
“Precisely, although not a satisfied one. He has the heart of a poet, I think.” Charles admired the man who could bring a bit of dash to the law profession, which so many viewed as dull. “Have you readThe Star-Chamber?”
“No, I haven’t,” she admitted. “But I read hisWindsor Castleand thoroughly enjoyed it.”
“I, as well. I haveThe Star-Chamberif you wish to borrow it. Two volumes.” He jumped up from the table. “Come along, bring your wine.” He’d never known a woman who’d read William Ainsworth before. He felt as if he’d found a fast friend, but he caught himself a second later. “That is, if you’ve finished with your tart.”
For answer, she popped the last bite between her full lips, distracting him for a second so he forgot to immediately draw out her chair. When she started to push it back, he sprang into action recalling his manners. Then he led her from the dining room and up the main staircase to his study.
“You must have readThe Miser’s Daughter,” he said, holding the door for her to enter. Normally, it was his sanctum, breached only by his father, Pelham, or Waverly. Still, he didn’t think twice about inviting Miss Rare-Foure inside. “AndThe Flitch of—”
“Of Bacon,” she finished, naming Ainsworth’s novel that explored the old tradition of awarding married couples a side of bacon if they could swear to having no regrets a year and a day after their marriage. “A bit sappy but strange enough to hold my interest.”
When they entered the room, with him leaving the door open for propriety’s sake, she started to laugh. The sound unexpectedly sparked his desire, giving him pause.What the devil had got into him?He was not a randy youth. Yet, looking at Charlotte, with her rich brown eyes glittering in the lamplight, the bow of her upper lip curved with mirth, she was a delightful sprite. A few hours ago, he could never have imagined such a sweet creature in his study.
She set her glass down on the edge of his crowded desk and twirled in a circle. “Just look!” She gestured with her delicate hands.
